Two days ago I found evidence Rena is – alive! I called Marilyn to give her the good news. She did not pick up, so I left her a message. Marilyn has been following my quest, ever since I began my portrait of my – other Muse! Marilyn was my first Muse, well, that isn’t quite true, because I saw my first Muse walking all by herself as I rushed to get in the right class, I forever assigned to the wrong class for some damn reason. But my fortunes were about to change.

I gasped when I beheld Cindy walking my way, and stopped in my tracks to watch her walk to her destination. There was just her and I, stuck in limbo. She had long blonde hair down to her waist. She smiled at me. Marilyn would later tell me she was a ballerina.

Three classes later I am in my first art class. I singed up for three. Everyone has found a seat. There is an empty one across from me. I began to work on a poem, when I heard the rustle of angel hair. I looked up – and there she be!

My heart stopped! She was looking at me, and looked amused. She had not missed the long look I gave her. She likes what she sees. I spoke not a word to her. This was traditional when I chose this one, then that one, to be my faraway inspiration, to be my mortal guide that put me in touch my wife from another life, for, I was not meant to be loved, or love in this one. I was too ethereal, other worldly, too overcome with passion for what was, that could not be brought back, continued – forever more!

So, I assigned Cindy to my fate, she the unattainable girl of my dreams. And she seemed to be O.K. with this. Each day she allowed my little looks to grow longer. She gave me little smiles now and then, just to encourage me – to speak! She had already allowed me to be in her space.

Damn you, man! Speak to her! She’s beginning to think you are strange. She might request another seat. You’ve got ninety days to tell her she is fantastically beautiful. Get with it.

On day three of our meeting, our art teacher announced we would be working with clay. He wanted to see who had talent and who didn’t. Clay is easy to work with.

“We’ve all done it.” our teacher said reassuringly.

As we lined up to get our hunk of clay, I spoke to our teacher.

“I want to do a bust of the girl across from me.”

My teacher gave me a long look.

“Have you done a bust before?”

“No, but I am gifted.”

“Take as much clay as you need!”

Coming back to our table, I could see Cindy had no talent as a sculptor and was rendering her obligatory ashtray, or, was it a dish of some kind. She looked up at me as I plopped down my huge wad of clay.

“I’m going to a bust of you. Do you mind?”

And that was it, the total sum of my words directed her way. But, she felt me adore her five days a week, my love for her just pouring forth as I studied her high cheeks bones, caressed them with my eyes – till I got them just right!

I made love to Cindy for an hour. I worked on her image during lunch. I did not know I was being watched by Cindy’s rival since the second grade. I am in the tenth grade. My English teacher is comparing my poems to T.S. Elliot. I am an erotic maelstrom. I truly want to fornicate with at least seven beautiful maidens, one in each class -and the beauty I partake at lunch! But, they are all un-attainable because my wife, in an other life, broke my heart – for an eternity! I was doomed, condemned to want then all, and ne’er have a one.

I knew Cindy and I could never be. The moment I made a move on her, she would be torn from me. I would be punished by Harpies. I know my reader doubts this is the truth. But, Marilyn sent me a note, via a girl in my fitft period. She wanted to see me after school. She wanted to talk to me before I broke my silence with Cindy, and began walking her home from school. But for now, there I was alone in the art studio, hovering over her, caressing her cheeks and running my fingers up and down her long neck. I was in Creative Heaven! I was Adam – alone! I was made in His image.

“Mon amour. Mon beau cygne ! Ma source d’inspiration.”

“My love. My beautiful swan! My inspiration.”

“Ma femme d’une autre vie.”

“My wife from another life.”

* * *

Above are photos of the actress, Madeleine Sologne. Her and Marilyn look very much alike, but, I see Cindy in her as well. I would later call Marilyn ‘My Mary Magdalene’. Madeleine, means Magdalene. You will not understand the core of my novel ‘Capturing Beauty’ until you know ‘The Eternal Return. Madeleine starred in Jean Cocteau’s ‘Eternal Return’ that is inspired by the story of Tristan and Isolde. Jean is an alleged Grand Master of the Priory de Sion that was invented by Surrealists.

Jon Presco

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eternal_return

Eternal return (also known as “eternal recurrence”) is a concept that the universe has been recurring, and will continue to recur, in a self-similar form an infinite number of times across infinite time or space. The concept is found in Indian philosophy and in ancient Egypt and was subsequently taken up by the Pythagoreans and Stoics. With the decline of antiquity and the spread of Christianity, the concept fell into disuse in the Western world, with the exception of Friedrich Nietzsche, who connected the thought to many of his other concepts, including amor fati.

L’Éternel retour (English: The Eternal Return) is a French drama romance film from 1943, directed by Jean Delannoy, written by Jean Cocteau, starring Madeleine Sologne and Jean Marais.[1] In United Kingdom, the film was also known under the alternative title Love Eternal.[2]

Madeleine Sologne

Eternal Return (L’Eternel Retour) translates the Tristan and Isolde legend into contemporary (e.g. 1939) terms. The Tristan counterpart, Patrice (Jean Marais), falls in love with the modern-day Isolde, named Nathalie. Actually he has fallen for two Nathalies: when Nathalie I (Madeleine Sologne) spurns his offer of marriage, he turns his attentions to Nathalie II (Junie Astor). Still carrying a torch for Nathalie I, Patrice attempts a nocturnal rendezvous with his true love on the eve of his wedding. Because of a tragic blunder, Patrice and Nathalie I are reunited only in death. The dream-like quality of Eternal Return is due more to the input of screenwriter Jean Cocteau than director Jean Delannoy. The film, with its mystical trappings and ethereal performances, can now be viewed as a precursor to Cocteau’s own Beauty and the Beast.